Ahem. Any bitches awake for beta on a gen Buffy post-ep to 711 "Showtime"?

Dana's already had a look through, but I wouldn't mind another pair of eyes after I'm done tweaking.

Yep.

Yep.

t glom

I'll send it along in a few moments.

Keen.

Insent, PMM, and thank you kindly.

Insent shriftwards.

Brill. I'm obviously not that bright when I'm tired, so the help is much appreciated.

Whoa. I wrote.

Short Joyce gen piece.

----

It's been six months since I took it off, but I still feel it like a missing limb. Six months since "us" split into "him" and "me". Six months, and the groove it wore in my finger is only just now starting to fade.

Six months, an old-growth forest of legal paperwork, and several hundred dollars spent on anti-wrinkle creams and potions that promise me all the things I wish I was stupid enough to believe. Six months spent smearing them on religiously, even though I know they're a waste of money and they won't make a difference; I just wanted to pretend I believed in miracles, for a little while.

It will be nice, not running into people who will ask me how I'm doing, that polite social concern stretched across their faces. Nice not to have to lie to them, to tell them that things are fine, that we're getting along better as friends than we were as husband and wife, that it's for the best, while the whole time my thumb worries the absent gold band. Nice to maybe make new friends, ones who won't feel like they have to choose a side and choose to retreat instead.

A fresh start. A new town, new faces, new people, a new gallery. A new school for Buffy, one where she can make a fresh start of her own. A new house with plenty of room for the two of us. It's more house than I ever thought I'd be able to afford, even with settlements and alimony and child support on top of my income.

We'll be happy here. I can feel it in my bones.

Nice, PMM, very nice. I like the focus on the absent wedding ring.

Steph, here you go. It's a start: not a good one, but a start. I’ve folded the space-time continum so that New Moon Rising took place before Epiphany. It’s so much neater that way. POV skips a little, but ~~~ should make changes clear.

Prologue:

There was another reason I had to leave Sunnydale. Something I hoped no-one would ever know. If Darla had been around then, she would have seen it; but she didn’t come back for a while. So it was that the flaw went unnoticed.

Sure, I loved Buffy. I still do; it’s my fate, my destiny. The trouble is that fate has a way of going awry, and the plans the Powers make don’t always seem foolproof. It has to be said that they may not have bargained for one as foolish as me. Looking back, I think I’ve destroyed- no, bigger than that. The thing requires a swear word. (What would Spike say?) Bugger. I’ve buggered it up, well a truly, in every sense of the word.

I’d been aware that I was attracted to him, the few times we’d met. He had a raw, animal power in him, tempered by a calm, clever mind. While there was Buffy, though, I was blinded, as if I was looking at the sun- a very apt simile, in fact, given how she burned me. Then I moved away, stepped out of the sunshine, and any little glimmer of light became that much more welcome.

~~~

One:

I’d never really looked at Angel before I took the ring to him. We barely spoke then- neither of us are great talkers- but I realised I knew what Buffy saw in the guy. At the time, I thought I was merely seeing that he was good looking, and more envious of his looks that of those who could have him. Now I’m less sure.

When I realised Willow and I were never going to work out, when I knew about Tara and her, when I left Sunnydale for what I think will be the last time, the first place I headed for was LA. I don’t know what I was thinking- maybe it’s just that LA’s the first big road out. Living in Tibet taught me to take some of these things as they come, not to analyse them too much.

He’d moved, but I found him easily enough. The demon underworld all knew who and where he was. When I got to the hotel, it was starting to rain, and I was glad to find the door unlocked. Nobody was in the hall, although some things seemed out of place, so I guessed they’d been called out on a case. I was just about to hunt for the kitchen when I heard a woman scream upstairs.

Living in Sunnydale, you learn to run fast, and with my new-found control of the werewolves strength I’d started heading towards the trouble even when I was alone.

Upstairs, I found out why she’d screamed. In one of the bedrooms Angel and a female vampire- a blonde- were struggling on the bed. He seemed to be winning, but it looked close, and I figured that if I wanted to stay the night I might be better off with Angel than some random vampiress. I pulled the habitual stake from my pocket, waited until I had a clear view of her back, and dusted the creature.

Angel peered at me through the puff of ashes. “Oz?”

~~~

“Yeah,” the young man replied, calmly. “You okay?”

“I’m fine.” That was my plan for the evening fucked. Can’t do the dirty with a pile of dust. I stood, brushing ash off my clothes, and tried my best to seem normal.

“Good.”

“Something to eat? There are doughnuts, I think, and some wine.”

“Donuts sound good. I’ll take a raincheck on wine.”

We head down, each wrapped in his own thoughts. Mine weren’t terribly rational, concerning themselves with my hard-on, the lack of Darla, and the good-looking man now with me. Heaven- or rather Hell- knew I’d taken Spike often enough when Drusilla wasn’t around.